


Beneath the Sky of Stars

by Marlon



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Irish mythology au, Light Angst, M/M, Reunions, Romance, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-16 14:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16088174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marlon/pseuds/Marlon
Summary: Armitage is less than impressed when a newcomer joins the court of the Tuatha Dé Danann but he soon finds himself utterly charmed by this newest courtier. He tries in vain to resist Kylo's attempts to woo him but he's won over by Kylo's warmth, strength, and compassion. The only obstacle to their happy union is Kylo's foster father, Manannán mac Lir. Armitage is wary of the old sea god and knows he needs to be on his guard against Manannán's scheming.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Now featuring the absolutely gorgeous artwork by Allantieeart! A big heartfelt thank you to TheKnitterati for doing the beta work on this fic (thank you, I know it was a lot!)
> 
> \----
> 
> This story is based on the world of Irish mythology and a lot of what we know about this mythological cycle comes from the Lebor Gabála Érenn (The Book of Invasions) and was heavily modified by early Christian missionaries to Ireland. The Tuatha Dé Danann were descendants of a previous invader named Nemed. When Nemed's people dispersed, some went into the so-called "north of the world" and when they returned, they were known as the Tuatha Dé Danann. While in the north, they learned their skills in magic, science, the arts, and necromancy from the goddess Danu at the four cities - Falias, Gorias, Murias, and Finias. They aren't quite gods in the traditional sense, they're more like supernatural beings and eventually, they evolve into the Aos Si - the fairy folk of Ireland. If you want to know more about this mythology, please come and yell at me on twitter or tumblr, I'm always excited to talk about the Tuatha Dé Danann!
> 
> There are some translations needed for this story, I'll provide them here in the notes as they come up:
> 
> dia duit = hello  
> Bogadh ar leataobh = roughly, this means to move aside

It is a cool, damp day, leaves rustling on the stones of the courtyard, when Armitage’s father, The Dagda, comes to inform him that a newcomer wishes to join the court of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Armitage crosses his arms as he leans against the window frame to gaze down into the courtyard below where this newcomer argues heatedly with the guardsmen, petitioning for entry. The wind gently tugs strands of Armitage’s long vibrant hair from his elaborate topknot and he brushes the locks aside as he rolls his eyes. They have no need of new courtiers, even if this interloper claims to be a master swordsman, warrior, crafter, harper, poet, and magician all rolled into one. There are warriors and craftspeople aplenty at court and there is no finer harper, or wiser magician than Armitage himself.

And so what if this mysterious stranger tricks his way into the court by besting the guardsman in a battle of wits, or wins a stone-throwing contest against Ogma, their now dethroned champion, or entertains the court with his harp. Armitage won’t let his head be turned by feats of strength or enormous doe eyes, broad shoulders, or beautiful tumbled curls. No, absolutely not.

“Well,” his mother whispers to him from behind her fur-lined mantle after it’s all over and the newcomer’s place at court is assured, “that was certainly impressive.”

Armitage glares at her. “Betrayer.” He growls, but with little heat behind it.

Boand simply raises her eyebrow and smiles innocently at him as The Dagda comes along to whisk her to dinner. Armitage ducks away from her hand as she reaches up to ruffle affectionately at his hair.

Once he’s alone the newly-minted courtier swaggers up to him, a pleased grin on his face.

“Dia duit, my beauty.” He captures Armitage's hand so he can press a kiss to his palm. “May I escort you into the great hall?”

“I can escort myself, thank you very much.” Armitage huffs.

The stranger, still holding Armitage's hand captive, presses another kiss to his palm and still another to the pulse point on his wrist, before releasing his hand. Then the odd but impressive man dips into a low, theatrical bow, glancing up at Armitage from beneath the sweep of his dark hair.

“My name is Kylo, foster son of Manannán mac Lir.” He grins when Armitage gestures for him to rise. “I’m honoured to be part of King Nuada’s court.” He leans in close, his warm breath ghosting up Armitage’s neck, so he can whisper directly into Armitage’s ear. “I look forward to serving you, Armitage, son of The Dagda.”

He smiles again, delighted, as Armitage’s mouth flops open. The audacity of this man, Armitage thinks to himself. With another bow, Kylo takes his leave in a swirl of leathers, furs, and laughter, leaving Armitage alone in the king’s reception rooms.

Fintan chooses this moment to swoop down from the rafters and land on Armitage's antlers. He ruffles his long tail feathers as he twitters uncertainty at Armitage, unsure of his mood. Armitage harrumphs.

“Well, Fintan.” Armitage grouses, tugging at the lapels of his black and gold-patterned mantle. “How’s this for a to-do. This interloper has been made the new champion because Nuada was so impressed with him. Whoever heard of such a thing?”

Fintan flits around on Armitage’s antlers, whistling cheerfully.

“Ugh, you would say that.” Armitage waves his hand in dismissal as he tries to affect a sneer that he doesn’t quite feel. The places where Kylo had kissed him are still burning like a brand. 

He beckons the other birds down from the ceiling. Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas cascade down from the dark rafters in a waterfall of iridescent colour to perch on his antlers with Fintan. Armitage pulls his shoulders back and with head held high, regally swans out of the reception room and into the great hall for dinner.

This Kylo may have impressed the court with his simple tricks and nonsense but he won’t win over Armitage so easily. Armitage shan’t be wooed, not even by one with such a pretty face.

Armitage hates him, he decides. But as he pauses at the door of the great hall, waiting to be announced, he watches Kylo’s easy way with those serving the dinner, the polite and courteous way he speaks with Boand, and sighs.

Armitage is already in love with him.

\----

It begins with small tokens - flowers left in odd spots, places only Armitage is known to frequent. Gifts of mouth-watering baked goods, fine wines, and baskets of ruby red berries are followed by the most perfect dowsing wand Armitage has ever seen.

Armitage can’t allow himself to be distracted and what’s more, he can’t allow Kylo to become distracted either because his tasks for the king are numerous as well as dangerous. There’s tremendous responsibility on Kylo’s broad shoulders, it’s no small matter to be the leader of Nuada’s legions, to be the First Knight at court. Armitage tries not to be charmed by Kylo but he can’t help himself. Who wouldn’t want to be so adored? The way Kylo’s dark eyes light up when Armitage enters a room, the way he without fail offers his arm to escort Armitage to dinner - he can feel his resolve crumbling. When Kylo begins leaving treats for Fintan, Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas, Armitage knows he’s in trouble.

Despite his earlier resolve, Armitage agrees to allow Kylo the honour of bringing him into the great hall one night. As Kylo holds out his elbow in a most gallant fashion, a blush blooms across Armitage’s cheeks and spills down his neck, and as he slips his hand onto Kylo’s armoured forearm, a thrill of excitement shivers its way through his entire body. He’s helpless to stop the fluttering of his stomach when Kylo guides his hand down to nestle into the crook of Kylo’s elbow. Kylo slips his other hand overtop Armitage’s and with a bright smile on his face, brings them into the great hall to dine.

Most pay them no mind, only Boand looks on fondly. As they take their place at The Dagda’s right hand, Armitage happens to glance up and notice the stormy, silver eyes of Manannán mac Lir glaring at them. Upon catching Manannán’s eye, a peculiar darkness dims Armitage’s vision and a sinister whispering tickles his ear causing him to squirm in his chair. Then, like a passing summer storm, the dimness lifts and the chatter of the court swells to its normal volume once again. Armitage glances at Kylo out of the corner of his eye, but he’s chatting amiably with Boand; the strange eclipse had not affected Kylo apparently. Sliding his gaze over to Manannán, Armitage frowns. The old sea god looks, for all the world, like he’s enjoying his meal but the remnants of his spell linger on his hands in the form of an eerie blue glow. Kylo lays a hand over Armitage’s, drawing his attention away from Manannán, and even as Armitage smiles up into Kylo’s luminous, dark eyes he realizes that he’ll have to be on his guard, for both their sakes, against Manannán mac Lir’s machinations.

\----

“Are you going to break my heart someday?” Armitage askes Kylo between breathless kisses one afternoon. Kylo shakes his head vehemently.

“No, never, my love.” He gathers Armitage’s narrow hands up within his and presses reverent kisses to Armitage’s knuckles and fingertips, paying special attention to the callouses left behind from the strings of Armitage’s harp. He then dots a line of smiling kisses from Armitage’s wrist up his bare arm, ending with a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ll be your poor knight as long as you allow me by your side.”

“Hmm.” Armitage purrs as he gently pushes Kylo back into the snowy linens and mound of quilts on his bed. “My blessed one, you must know I am yours as well, as long as you allow me by your side.”

“How does forever sound to you?” Kylo asks, wrapping his large fist in Armitage’s long hair and drawing him down for a kiss.

“Forever, and ever, and then a thousand more, at least.”

\----

“Would you like to come with me to Brú na Bóinne?”

Armitage finds Kylo in the smithy one afternoon, overseeing the repairs to his greatsword. Glancing up with a bright smile, Kylo nods. He murmurs a few words to Goibniu and leaving his precious sword and spear in the capable metalsmith’s hands, follows Armitage across the bailey.

Armitage sweeps them quickly through the great hall towards the staircase that leads to Brú na Bóinne. For some time, he’s suspected Manannán mac Lir of intercepting his and Kylo’s letters but he’s been unable to prove it since the letters always show up, eventually, and with no evidence of tampering. They tried using Fintan, Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas to carry messages between them and although it’s well-known that they are Armitage’s acolytes, they are swift and canny fliers who can easily evade capture. Or so he thought. One day Armitage found them ensnared in the branches of a tree that had positively dripped with magic of a malicious intent. No longer wishing to endanger his songbird friends, Armitage and Kylo developed other methods of communication.

Manannán mac Lir contrives all manner of excuses to keep Kylo from returning to Armitage at the end of each day, at the conclusion of every campaign, and when he’s injured. Armitage knows Kylo to be an exceptional fighter, strong and smart, yet he seems to return with injuries everytime he trains with his foster father. Armitage is determined to keep Kylo safe and his home in Brú na Bóinne is the safest place he knows.

Turning a corner into a darkened corridor, Armitage pulls them to a stop in front of an intricately carved door, covered from top to bottom with delicate spiral patterns. He insinuates himself into Kylo’s arms, which eagerly pull him close and hold him tight. Armitage leans up to feather a kiss to Kylo’s jaw and mouth at his ear.

“This is the door to my home.” He whispers, “I will show you how to gain entry but it is imperative you not reveal this to anyone. Even now, I feel Manannán mac Lir’s eyes upon us.”

Kylo practiced hands skim up Armitage’s back and around to loosen the laces of the close-fitting olive-green doublet Armitage wears. Pulling aside the silk and cream-coloured linen, Kylo presses worshipful kisses down Armitage’s neck to his collarbone.

“Thank you for trusting me with this, Armitage.” He cups Armitage’s face and presses their foreheads together. “We need some sort of sanctuary, every day Manannán asks more and more of me, I’m afraid he may devour me altogether one day soon.”

Armitage hisses sharply at Kylo’s frightening prediction, he’d been unaware of how far this situation with Manannán has gone. He leans back to catch and hold Kylo’s gaze.

“You’ll be safe with me, my love, now look.”

With a few whispered words, Armitage allows the magic to gather about his body. His hands softly glowing, he turns back to the door and begins inscribing an intricate set of runes upon the weathered wood. Where his fingers skim, the door glimmers luminously as the magic unspools to fill the cracks and crevasses in the wood.

Before Armitage can complete the spell, a creeping darkness fills the stairwell as the temperature drops sharply. From within the inky blackness, the crackling, icy voice of Manannán mac Lir whips toward them.

“Traitors!”

Armitage and Kylo slowly turn in unison to see the tall, wiry figure of Manannán lurching up the stairs towards them, his black and silver robes swirling around his feet on the flagstones. Armitage gasps as Kylo flattens him against the door, shielding him with his body. The golden runes he’d drawn have already begun to fade.

“We’ve not wronged you, father.” Kylo pleads, voice wobbling as he faces his father. “I’m still loyal to you, to the king, but Armitage also.”

The songbirds cowering on Armitage’s antlers screech in fear as Kylo and Armitage are flung apart and crushed up against the wall. Armitage’s wide eyes drop to Manannán’s brightly glittering hands, already full of magic, and he nearly sobs to see the creeping silver mist beginning to pour forth from Manannán - if he completes the spell and the mist engulfs them, it will be disastrous. Spurred into action by this fear, Armitage tears his hazelwood wand from the sleeve of his tunic, suffusing it with own his golden magic as he moves. Kylo grabs for his other hand and squeezes tightly as he pulls his wickedly sharp scian from his tall boot.

“Manannán, stand down!” Armitage thunders. “You’re not being reasonable.”

Raising his hands, Manannán gathers the mist and sends it in a wave crashing into Kylo and Armitage. He follows it with a fount of crackling silver lightning. Too late, Armitage lurches in front of Kylo, conjuring a bulwark of golden light to shield them. He hears Kylo scream his name as his hand is torn from Armitage’s.

Then there was only darkness and Armitage knew no more.

\----

There’s nothing but a blankness, the sensation of falling, endless falling, and Kylo’s enraged screams echoing in his ears.

Armitage awakens with a jolt. He opens his eyes, squinting against the throbbing at his temples, and blinks owlishly. He lies still for a moment, taking stock of his body - nothing seems broken or bleeding, so he gingerly pushes himself to his knees.

Glancing around at the unfamiliar landscape, Armitage’s heart stutters in his chest. Where is he? A forest of some sort; although it looks nothing like the forests at home - in this strange, new place the trees are numerous upon the ground and so tall their evergreen canopies blot out the sky so that only weak rays of sunlight penetrate to the forest floor. The ground all around him is covered with a plush mat of burnished orange pine needles, dry and brittle beneath his hands. He scoops up a small handful, letting them sift through his fingers as he gazes around. The silence is absolute - there’s no birdsong, no scuttling sounds of small animals, only the distant rumble of water over rocks can be heard. His arrival in this curious new world has stunned and terrified the forest into silence.

A mournful sob falls from his lips when he finds his lovely hazelwood wand broken in pieces a few feet from him. He scrambles forward to gather the broken bits to himself and then cradles the wand to his chest as he slumps back against the rough, crumbling bark of one of the trees. He glances fearfully at the surrounding forest cathedral.

“Kylo?” He hates how small and terrified his voice sounds in his ears. “My love?” He calls out louder.

Nothing but silence greets him. A small seed of fear lodges itself firmly in his chest then. Where is he? And where is Kylo?

An iridescent flash of green from the nearby brush draws his eye. Fintan, Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas are huddled together, beady black eyes bright in the gloom. Another flutter of fear ripples through Armitage at the uncharacteristic silence of his birds. Something is definitely wrong. With a soft whistle, he calls to them and they rush toward him. He tucks the broken bits of his wand in his doublet pocket then pulls his knees up to his chest as the birds settle in his hands.

“This isn’t right. Fintan, what’s going on?”

The small bird waggles his long shimmering tail feathers as he twitters haltingly. Armitage lets his head fall forward to his chest, a small sob tearing free from his mouth as huge, fat tears brim in his eyes and spill down his cheeks.

“I know not, Fintan, there is a silvery veil pulling across my mind’s eye.” He sniffles, grief turning to anger in a flash. “This is Manannán mac Lir’s doing.”

The little birds flit up to alight on his antlers as he pushes himself to his feet. “We must find Kylo - he could be injured, or at Manannán’s mercy.”

He rests his palms against the trunk of the nearest towering pine tree, glancing up he squints at the canopy - he’d never see anything from down here.

“Fionnbarr, can you break through the canopy and try to find a landmark or a direction?” 

The glossy black and white bird whistles agreeably and launches himself from Armitage’s antlers up towards the barely-visible sky. Within moments he returns, warbling a question in Armitage’s ear.

“Of course.” Armitage nods. Glancing up at the thick overhanging branches, he raises his hands, fingertips glowing softly white with magic and makes a parting gesture. “Bogadh ar leataobh.” he murmurs.

The looming trees obligingly bend, allowing Fionnbarr a clear path to the bright blue sky overhead. The bird zips up and up until he’s merely a speck in the sky. Armitage can see him wheeling in wide circles in an updraft before he plummets back to the ground, trilling loudly. Armitage releases the trees from the spell as Fionnbarr perches lightly on his shoulder.

“So, it is as we thought, this is definitely not Éire.” Armitage’s shoulders slump as a few more tears stream down his face. 

He buries his face in his hands, a sob racking his body as he gives into his grief for a moment. The four birds croon sweetly and softly to him until he comes back to himself. Wiping his eyes with the edge of his mantle, he squares his shoulders.

“Fionnbarr, you said there is a wide river to the east?” Fionnbarr chirrups in agreement. “Very well, let us head in that direction. Perhaps we’ll come across a town or the ocean. Maybe we will find that we’re not so far from home as we think.”

Before they leave the small clearing, however, Armitage burns his sigil and a direction arrow pointing east into the trunk of one of the enormous trees - if Kylo somehow manages to track him to this labyrinthine forest, he’ll see Armitage’s symbol and at least, he’ll know in which direction to search.

Patting the pocket of his doublet to ensure the pieces of his wand are safely stowed, Armitage takes a bracing deep breath of the briny evergreen air and strides out of the clearing, heading east to the river and, hopefully, eventually back to Kylo’s arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long centuries have not been kind to Armitage. He has searched for his lost beloved Kylo across the world but to no avail. Now, after settling in Dublin with the confidence that Kylo will find him, he receives the first of many signs that his luck is about to change. As a series of unusual and worrisome snow storms churn their way towards Dublin, Armitage can't help but hope they herald Kylo's return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read and reblogged the story and the amazing art. I'm over the moon that people are enjoying the story so far. If you have any questions or curiosities about the story or the gods of the Tuatha Dé Danann, just let me know, I'm happy to talk more about them! 
> 
> This chapter is quite long (sorry about that!) with a few translations you'll need to know:
> 
> Maidin mhaith = good morning  
> Dia duit = hello  
> Breathnú ar shiúl = look away  
> seisiún = session, this is what you call an instance of musicians playing trad music for an audience, in a pub or home
> 
> The song that Armitage sings in this chapter is called Siúil a Rúin (you pronounce it sort of like Shool a Rune) and it's a traditional Irish song about a woman lamenting the loss of her lover as he leaves for war. The title translates to Walk On My Love.
> 
> Siúil, siúil, siúil a rúin = Walk, walk, walk on oh love  
> Siúil go socair agus, siúil go ciúin = Walk steadily and walk softly  
> Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom = Walk to the door and elope with me

Armitage is tired. So tired. Although the sun is shining brightly, the wind is fierce today, it pulls and snags his green peacoat as he treks, head down against the blast of winter air, across the expansive courtyard of Trinity College towards his office in the Arts Building. He tugs the collar of his coat up tighter. Fintan, tucked miserably in the curve of Armitage’s neck, chirps sadly.

“I know, my friend.” Armitage ruffles up his scarf so Fintan is warmer. “We are almost to the door, take heart.”

The campus is busy as the classes change over and students pour out of the surrounding buildings into Fellows’ Square, some looking harried as they bustle off to their next class, others lolling about chatting with friends or playing with their phones. A group of three students greets Armitage as he plods past them. He smiles.

“Maidin mhaith, children.”

They giggle, charmed by his fussy, proper demeanor.

“Dia duit, Professor Armitage.” One girl bravely responds, her Irish halting but pronunciation correct.

He nods at them but their eyes are already sliding past him, focusing on each other, the devices in their hands, or the door of the next building - such is the trick of his glamour. To pass unseen whenever he wishes has been a skill that has served him well in the past few centuries and despite his startlingly unusual appearance, very few of his students, fellow teachers, or other Gaels take much notice of him. Only one student has ever looked close enough to see what he truly is.

As he reaches the doors of his office building, Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas streak down out of the cobalt sky to alight on his antlers, huddling together for warmth. They twitter excitedly, their high, flute-like voices ringing out around him and echoing down the long, draughty corridor. Fintan hops out of Armitage’s hood to join them and they flutter and chatter together as he heads to his office.

“Yes, friends, I did notice the strong winds today.” Armitage inserts his key into the lock on his door, rattling the doorknob a few times - the door was constantly jamming in the damp Irish winter - before finally succeeding in pushing it open. “Let us get inside and discuss, I am sure we all have the same ideas.”

He closes the door to his small office, divesting himself of his satchel and winter layers as he crosses the room to settle at his desk. No sooner has he sat down, and his little birds fluttered into the desk in front of him, then the door to his office flies open and Rey bursts into the room like the personification of the blustery winter winds herself.

“Armitage!” She cries, slamming the door and hurrying to sit in one of the chairs placed in front of his desk. “That wind! There’s a storm coming, I’m sure of it. Do you think it’s him?”

He opens his mouth to respond but before he can, the birds break out into an excited racket. Hopping and fluttering madly, they flit across the desk to Rey and line up in front of her, peeping hopefully and regarding her with their bright, black eyes. Rey glances down at them fondly.

“You guys are so spoiled.”

She smiles as she rummages around in her messenger bag eventually retrieving a carton of blueberries. She opens the lid and sets it down as the small birds go mad with joy. With chirps of thanks, they dive into the carton and begin happily devouring the small berries. Armitage shakes his head.

“Rey, these must have been very dear.” He nods at the carton. “This is not the growing season.”

“I know.” She giggles as Fionnbarr alights on her shoulder and cuddles in close. “But it’s only once in a while.”

“You bring them berries every time you come to see me, and you know it!”

“Armitage, oh my goddess, that’s not important now!” Her sudden outburst startles Fintan, Farrell, and Phineas and they take flight, soaring around the high ceiling before settling back on Armitage’s antlers. “What about this weather?”

Armitage leans back in his chair, templing his fingers under his chin. “The unusual weather is certainly interesting. The veil has been fluctuating oddly lately, it pulls tight across my eyes at times only to ripple and tear at other times.”

“Well, that’s good? Isn’t it?” Rey sits forward expectantly.

“It could mean everything or nothing.”

Rey slumps back in the chair with an exasperated smile. “You don’t need to be so cryptic, it’s just us here.”

She shrugs her shoulder as Armitage folds his hands primly upon the blotter on his desk and raises an eyebrow at her, as if to say, _I don’t know how to be any other way_. Rey giggles into her scarf. Fionnbarr flutters off her shoulder at that moment and alights on the windowsill. He taps on the glass with his long beak until Armitage deigns to get up and open the window for him. The winter wind rushes into the small office, ruffling Armitage and Rey’s hair, stirring the papers on the desk, and whistling shrilly. Armitage tips his head toward the window, listening intently to the skirl with a serious set to his face. With a cheerful chirrup, Fionnbarr leaps out into the brisk day, followed by the others. Armitage pulls the window closed against the forceful gusts of wind and settles himself back at his desk.

“What is it?” Rey asks as she closes the lid to the carton of blueberries. “You looked very serious there for a moment.”

Armitage nods. “I think I will go to the Dubh Linn Gardens and attempt to scry.”

“Don’t you need to wait for one of the high holidays, or like, an auspicious day for that sort of thing?”

Armitage’s bell-like laughter fills the room as he sits back in his chair. “Oh my stars, no. If we had to deal with those kinds of restrictions, no spellwork would ever be completed.” He quickly consults his day planner on his desk. “I will go this afternoon after my class.”

Rey sits forward and reaches out for Armitage’s hand and settles her small hand over his narrow one, squeezing gently. “Can I come with you? Let me help.”

“You may, your gift of second sight will be useful.” Armitage gazes at her bright, confident face and a small spark of hope flares in his chest. “Are you sure you are not actually one of the Tuatha Dé Danann? You are so like The Morrigan and her sisters.”

Rey smiles. “Not as far as I know but Dad’s always a bit mysterious when it comes to our family tree. I guess you never know.” She nudges the carton of blueberries toward Armitage as she gathers her bag to go. “Keep those for the birds, it’s cold out, they’ll need something sweet when they get back.”

Armitage rises and comes around the desk to escort Rey to the door. “They have gone to scour the countryside for any sign of my beloved. I am sure they will be back before too long.” He sighs sadly as he holds the door open for Rey.

She turns to look back at him from the hallway. “It’ll be okay, Armitage, I think we’re getting close.”

“I pray that you are right.” He smiles at her, crossing his arms he leans against the door frame, then nods to some passing students. “Meet me here after your classes and we shall go to the gardens.”

Rey nods then takes her leave, she hurries away from his office and is quickly lost in the crowd at the end of the corridor. Armitage closes his door with a click and sits back at his desk. The veil ripples at the corner of his consciousness as the tiny spark of hope alight in his chest grows in strength.

Something has changed, he can feel it. Rey is right, this time the approaching storm is different. Armitage shall have to be ready.

\----

As the day wears on, the intensity of the wind does not abate. The sky is still the same brilliant cobalt blue that it had been in the morning when Armitage arrived to campus, but now the forceful winds have blown all cloud cover away from the city.

The wind is strong at their backs as Armitage and Rey hurry through the twisting cobblestone streets of Dublin, urging them forward, it seems to Armitage. It is almost as if the wind wants them to get to their destination quickly. A sudden swell of wind blows Armitage’s red-gold hair into his eyes and tangles his woolen scarf in the lower tines of his antlers, and tugs strands of Rey’s hair out of her top knot. As they pass through the tall gates that flank Dublin Castle and into the alley that will take them to the Dubh Linn Gardens, Rey sighs with relief, tucking her wayward hair behind her ears. Here, at least, they are shielded from the wind by the imposing castle on one side, and the modern office building on the other.

They skirt the medieval tower, dodging tour groups and wandering sightseers armed with cameras and maps, and head along the back wall of the castle, crossing the street when they come to the intricately wrought iron gates of the gardens themselves. Armitage breathes a sigh of relief as they enter the peaceful and private gardens. Happily, most of the tourist groups have chosen to forgo the gardens in favour of the more impressive castle across the street and now there are only a couple people enjoying a late lunch and tea.

He brings them to a halt just inside the gates in one of the small memorial gardens that fill the corners of the park. The garden is evergreen even in the middle of February and they huddle together, the over-arching trellis provides some semblance of privacy.

“Couldn’t we have done this at your office?” Rey asks, bouncing on her toes to keep warm.

“We could have,” Armitage replies as he rummages through his messenger bag. “But we would have had to come here anyway to fetch the water. To scry, it is best to use living water.”

“And a bucket of water from the Liffey wouldn’t do the trick?”

“Ugh, no.” He pulls a dark stone bowl and a short stick covered with intricate scrollwork ending with two prongs of equal length from his bag and shows them to Rey. “That water is too polluted to be of use.”

“Oh my god, is that a magic wand?” 

Armitage snorts. “This is my dowsing wand, we will use it to search for water.” He hands the bowl to her and with a nod of his head, indicates that she should precede him out into the garden. “You know, of course, the significance of where we are standing.”

“Yeah, obviously.” She tucks the bowl under her arm so she can pull her hood up around her head. “This was the site of the so-called ‘Black Pool’, where the Vikings used to moor their ships.”

“I knew you would know.” He glances at her with pride. “The River Poddle is somewhere beneath our feet on its way to join the Liffey. We need this water to scry.”

They stop at the edge of the brick walkway where it meets the grassy field, and they look out over the large expanse of grass, crisscrossed by meandering pathways.

“It’s the middle of February though, how are you going to get the water out of the ground?” Rey looks up at him, her face skeptical.

“The water will come when I call for it.”

“Well, isn’t that convenient,” Rey replies dryly, nudging Armitage with her elbow.

He smothers a laugh with his scarf. “Isn’t it just? One of the few perks of godhood, I suppose.”

Still grinning, Armitage steps off the path and onto the flattened winter-worn grass of the park, dowsing wand held in front of him. They take a zig-zagging path across the lawn, following every twitch and pull of the dowsing wand. Before long, the wand begins to vibrate strongly in Armitage’s hands. He looks over at Rey with a smile.

“This is the spot, have the bowl at the ready.”

Rey nods. Armitage kneels down on the cold grass, Rey crouches in front of him, bowl held out in front of her, eyes keen with interest. Armitage makes to plunge the dowsing wand into the ground but Rey stops him.

“What about those people?” She whispers as she nods to the couple sitting on a bench across the lawn.

Armitage glances at them. “Breathnú ar shiúl.” He whispers as he flutters his fingers in their direction, wisps of his magic unfurling from his hands and curling towards them like a rolling fog. The two people on the bench suddenly become interested in their phones. Armitage turns his attention back to the dowsing wand. “There, they will not see us.”

He stabs the wand into the frozen ground then quickly removes it. Fresh, clean water begins burbling out of the ground to form a shallow puddle between them. He nods to Rey.

“Now gather some of the water in the bowl.”

She drags the bowl through the puddle, filling it entirely. The rest of the water rapidly soaks away into the ground as if it had never been there.

“Whoa.” Rey breathes as she carefully sets the bowl down in between them.

Armitage fishes around in his messenger bag and comes up with two small tea lights and a small chunk of quartz that glimmers with a soft pearlescence.

“Rey, would you light these candles.” He hands her a box of matches. “And then set them on either side of the bowl.”

Rey nods as she takes the matches. Armitage places the quartz in the bowl of water, taking care not to drop it in and splash the water everywhere. Rey sets the round tea lights beside the bowl then shoves the box of matches into her coat pocket and settles into a more comfortable seated position.

“Now what?” She glances up at Armitage eagerly. “Are you going to see into the future?”

Armitage grins at her enthusiasm. “Scrying is the art of revelation, we cannot see into the future because it is ever changing.”

“Oh.” Rey sounds slightly disappointed. “So it’s nothing like how it’s shown in movies and books?”

Armitage reaches over and pats her hand. “Fear not, little sister, any little bit of information will assist us at this point, even if scrying is an imperfect method.”

“Alright.” Rey squares her shoulders. “So how do we start?”

“First, we need to meditate to allow us to relax our eyes and enter into a peaceful mindset. When you feel expansive, you will know you are ready to begin.”

Rey nods, letting her eyes drift shut. Armitage bows his head slightly, mindful of his antlers, and gazes unseeing at the ground in front of him. They were quiet for a few moments, breathing softly together. Armitage could hear the sounds of the busy city all around him and if he listens intently, he can hear the flowing of the Poddle far below ground. The cold wind carries the brine of the ocean to him, he can feel the weak sun on his face. If he stretches out further, he can sense Rey fidgeting in front of him, can hear her thoughts organizing themselves, hear her heartbeat. He receives a brief flash of the city from above and he knows that his birds are returning to him.

Armitage exhales, he’s ready. Allowing his eyes to flutter open, he keeps his eyes focused on his hands for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight. When he senses the Rey is also ready to begin, he glances up at her. Reaching over, he squeezes her hand gently.

“Are you ready to begin?” He whispers to her. When she nods, he folds his hands in his lap. “Now, gaze into the water - use the crystal to help you focus - and hold your intention in your mind. Let yourself relax, if images come to you, do not try to hold them tight, it will be harder to scry. If your attention wanders that is alright, just keep your eyes focused on the water.”

“What should I ask? Should I ask for help finding Kylo?”

Armitage’s smile falters for a second before settling again. “You may ask whatever you wish.”

Rey ponders his words for a moment, then nods to herself. “Okay, ready.”

She drops her gaze to the bowl, Armitage watches her for a minute to make sure she’s calm and comfortable, then lets his eyes drop to the bowl of water and the chunk of quartz within.

_What must I do to find him again?_

He holds his intention firmly in his mind as he gazes into the bowl of water. The water gently swirls then begins to cloud over. Soon the water is white and murky and Armitage can no longer see the quartz.

_Please?_

Something drips into the bowl, agitating the water and causing ripples to form. As Armitage stares intently at the water, it begins to churn like a whirlpool and the water begins to pinken. As the water swirls, the pink colouration deepens until the water is shot through with red. Armitage gasps - it looks like blood.

_Let me see him._

An image of his home in Newgrange swirls in front of his eyes, the ring of standing stones around the tumulus mound are like dark spots in the field of his vision. He blinks rapidly but he can still see the odd pattern the burial mound and stones make like spots behind his eyes. The water stops churning abruptly and through the red haze and the image of the standing stones, he catches a glimpse Kylo’s beloved face. The vision lasts the blink of an eye before the water clears completely and he can once more see the crystal at the bottom of the dish.

Armitage sits up. Pressing his hands to his face, he inhales a deep, shuddering breath. As he exhales, he dashes the cuff of his jacket across his eyes, wiping away the tears that have gathered there. He had not expected to see Kylo, none of his attempts to scry in the past have provided him with such clear images.

In front of him, Rey is rubbing her eyes as she comes to. He peers at the garden beyond Rey, a flurry of movement having attracted his attention. Fintan whistles to him from the hedge and Armitage waves them over. The four birds dart toward him, perching daintily on his antlers then twitter at him, eager to tell him their news and to hear his in turn.

Rey stretches and shakes out her hands. She leans down to cup her hands around the candles, blowing them out. She sits up and regards Armitage with wide eyes.

“Did you see anything?”

“I did.” He rasps. “But I do not yet know the significance of my visions. I will need to think about it for some time.” He fiddles with the ends of his scarf. “And you, what did you see?”

“Well,” She stops, frowning. “I’m not quite sure. I asked what I could do to help you and I couldn’t really see anything in the water, but I could swear I could hear music.” She looks up at the four birds gathered on Armitage’s antlers. “I guess it could have been them chirping from the bushes, but it seemed like a very specific rhythm.”

“Hmm.” Armitage nods, deep in thought as he pours out the water and tidies away the bowl, quartz, and candles into his bag. “Scrying is an imperfect method of divination. We will both have to meditate on our visions.”

“Although,” Rey muses as she bounds to her feet. Holding out her hand, she hauls Armitage to standing. “The music sort of felt sweet and twinkly but somehow sad, like it was longing for something or someone.”

“And you do not recognize the melody?”

“If I heard it again I’d definitely recognize it.” She tugs on her mittens and pulls her hood up against the wind. “Maybe I’ll ask Finn if he recognizes the music, there has to be something significant about it.”

They exit the gardens as the late afternoon sun dips low in the sky. Before they part ways, Rey extracts a promise from him that he’ll come to the Cobblestone Pub tonight to play with Finn and his band. The music would help him think, she promises him.

As Armitage wends his way back to campus to collect his marking and books, the images from the scrying session unspool behind his eyes. The white, and then the red, the standing stones and his home in Brú na Bóinne - what did it all mean? His mind shies away from dwelling too much on the image of Kylo’s face, it was frightening. Kylo looked so fierce in the vision, he was dressed for battle with his hair tied back but that wasn’t the frightening part, the great scar that bisected his face was not something Armitage had seen before - he certainly did not have it when they were parted.

Was the scar, Kylo’s armor, the red colouring indicating a battle that had happened, or one that had not yet come to pass?

\----

Armitage moons about his small flat in The Liberties for about an hour after coming home from campus, bags of marking, assignments, and scrying tools are forgotten on the small desk in the corner of the parlour. Fintan, Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas had made such a racket, demanding that Armitage open the window to release them to the twilight sky, that when he had managed to push them aside and get the window open, they disappeared in a flurry of feathers leaving their silence behind.

He sits in his cozy wingback chair by the large paneled window, gazing sightlessly down toward the small park opposite his flat, ruminating on the meaning of the visions from his earlier scrying attempt. The meaning of Brú na Bóinne and the standing stones seems obvious - it is his home even though the way had been closed to him since Manannán mac Lir had worked his vile spell and destroyed everything Armitage held dear. Did the vision mean he would be returning home soon? Did it mean that he should go there right now and wait for Kylo? Either way, he feels heartened by the vision of his comfortable home, that he would possibly be able to return there soon, and with Kylo by his side, made the little spark of hope kindling in his chest flare brighter.

As for the other signs and symbols in his vision - the swirls of red seem obvious as well. A battle, or injury, Armitage surmises, shuddering a little at the thought of Kylo being injured. Armitage draws his fingertips lightly down his face, tracing the path the jagged scar had cut on Kylo’s face. He lets his head fall back against the headrest as he feathers the pads of his fingers down his neck and brushes along his collarbones. It has been so long since he’s felt anyone touch him with love. Kylo, for all that he was a large and lumbering, fearsome warrior, he had always come to Armitage’s bed so gently, he had always held him close like some precious thing. Armitage inhales shakily and lets his hands fall into his lap. Although he would like to laze around dreaming of Kylo’s gentle hands, there’s still work to be done.

Armitage heaves himself to his feet and heads to the narrow galley kitchen to prepare himself some tea. As the water boils, Armitage ponders the meaning of the swirls of white; they could mean so many things - the veil that separates him from Kylo, the folds of one of Armitage’s old cloaks from his life at court, or it could even be something as simple as the weather. Or, Armitage sighs as he selects a green tin of oolong tea off the shelf above the stove, the white swirls could mean everything or absolutely nothing at all. 

He takes his prepared cup of tea and saucer and returns to his chair by the window to watch the darkness fall outside. As he sips the too-hot tea, the complex flavours filling his mouth, he gazes over to his harp - he had promised he would come to the open session this evening. The harp wasn’t a good one, just some secondhand instrument he’d managed to find in an antique store in Galway one day. He’d had to make several repairs to it - all the strings needed replacing as did many of the levers but fortunately, the frame was in decent shape. It was nothing compared to the silvery sounds of Ardala, his own beautiful harp that he used to entertain the court. He supposed, like with all his meager possessions, it was safely tucked away in Brú na Bóinne where he’d left it. He’d had to make do with the broken down harp for many years now because although he was an ancient elder god, his resources were limited here in the world outside Tír na nÓg.

Armitage drains the last dregs of his tea then flips the cup over on the saucer and carefully pours off the little dribbles of liquid that are left. Turning the cup back over he turns it three times, then makes sure the handle is pointed towards himself. He scrutinizes the patterns the leaves make on the inside of the cup, frowning slightly. Tasseography is no more illuminating than scrying he thinks as he holds the cup closer to his face and hums quietly to himself. As with before, the symbols were at once obvious but also inscrutable. Here was the symbol for a long journey but it was crossed with the symbol for staying in one place. He turns the cup - there the leaves were telling him things would be changing but then not changing at all. Armitage turns the cup one more time and sees knots representing anxiety and stress and he grins, that symbolism is fairly clear. He narrows his eyes and sees at the bottom of the cup - beyond all the travel and non-travel, the change, the knots of stress, the symbol for love.

He gently places the cup back on the saucer and sets it on the windowsill. He collapses against the back of the chair, pressing his hands to his face. Dragging his hands down his face, he rests one hand at the base of his neck, the other he presses to his heart and laughs quietly. His fluting voice fills the parlour as the spark of hope within him bursts into flame - for the first time in centuries, he sees the end of his long exile in sight.

Still laughing with joy, he notices the room has grown rather dark as the night has fallen. With a snap of his fingers, he illuminates the standing lamps behind his chair and on the desk, and then he gathers up his teacup and dish and takes it all into the kitchen. Standing in the tidy kitchen, he debates having another cup of tea but his attention is snagged by a tap-tapping at the window. Crossing the parlour in three quick strides, he throws up the window to allow Farrell and Phineas to sweep into the room.

“Where have you been, my friends? And where are the others?”

Armitage keeps one ear tuned to the birds’ twittering as he heads back into the kitchen. He comes back after a few minutes with a fresh bowl of tea - Irish breakfast this time - and sets it down on the windowsill for Farrell and Phineas. They perch carefully on the rim of the bowl and take turns gracefully dipping their heads towards the fragrant tea, taking tidy sips to refresh themselves. Armitage drops back into his chair, crossing his legs elegantly at the knee and waits for them to recount their news.

Farrell flutters over to perch on Armitage’s knee, ruffling his feathers happily as Armitage stokes down his golden and black back. He chirrups excitedly at Armitage, who listens intently. He nods.

“So there is a storm coming. I had suspected as much.”

According to Farrell, they had been around Malahide heading toward Balbriggan when they caught the scent of the storm on the wind. Fintan and Fionnbarr had left to investigate further while Farrell and Phineas turned back. Farrell puffs up his feathers and looks at Armitage expectantly, black eyes bright and sharp.

“I think things will move fast now, my friends.” Armitage holds out his hand for Phineas to alight upon. He looks at them both fondly. “We will have to be ready but I think soon we will be home.”

The little birds break out into excited warbling and Armitage grins as he gathers them up, lifting them towards his antlers. They perch there still singing as he gets up to pack up his harp for the night’s performance. When the instrument is safely stowed in its black traveling case, he props open the window in case Fintan and Fionnbarr return while he’s away. The open window means the flat will be chilly when he returns but he doesn’t want them shivering on the sill for hours. Tugging the curtains to partially cover the window, he leaves one light on as a welcoming beacon for them.

Slinging the harp over his shoulder, he locks the door to his home and descends the stairs to the street with a spring in his step. The brisk winter wind buffets him as he steps onto the pavement and he tilts his face to the sky, smiling broadly.

Yes, things will move very fast now, he thinks.

\----

The front room of the Cobblestone is jam-packed with people. Armitage peers in the big bay window as he passes by the front door in favour of the quieter side entrance. The seisiún that occurred every Thursday is in full swing; the musicians are arranged in a semi-circle, backs to the window, and the bar is overrun with cheery patrons.

The burly doorman nods to Armitage as he approaches, harp slung over his back, and he holds the door open for him. Armitage thanks the bouncer but the man’s gaze has already slipped off Armitage and is looking behind him to greet the next set of revelers. Armitage quickly steps over the threshold of the bar, glad to be out of the cold wind. There is a pale corona around the moon this evening and the scent of snow upon the air. His birds are indeed correct, a storm is approaching. Kylo is approaching, he can feel it.

Finn spies him instantly as soon as Armitage shoulders his way through the crush of people milling around the door and long bar. He nods to his friend, Poe, who is idly noodling away on his concertina, and to another tall, serious-looking young man tuning a golden yellow fiddle who had been introduced to Armitage as Jim at a prior seisiún. Finn balances his guitar on his knees as he takes up a rhythmic clapping, encouraging the crowd to join in.

“Friends, please welcome to the stage,” He pitches his deep baritone voice to carry over the buzz of the other voices in the room, “the one and only, he of the green eyes and silver voice, harper without equal, Armitage!”

The crowd cheers wildly and stamp their feet as Armitage, cheeks rosy from the cold and from being the centre of attention makes his way to the stage. Rey, at her table at the front of the stage, lets fly a piercing whistle and whoops loudly. Farrell and Phineas wing their way over to her, landing deftly on the table.

Blush still hot upon his cheeks, Armitage ascends the short stage and gently sets his harp down beside Poe. He slings his jacket over the back of his chair and carefully unwinds his scarf from around his neck then settles himself to begin tuning his harp. Finn, Poe, and Jim, take up their instruments and, to give Armitage time to finish setting up, they begin something that sounds to Armitage like “The Foggy Dew” but with a very lengthy introduction.

Armitage keeps one ear tuned to the musicians as he works on his harp. He quite likes the sound of the concertina and the flare with which Poe plays it - he has a mind to ask Poe for lessons but he doesn’t want to make too many plans for the future, no one knows better than he just how fluid the future is. Finn and his friends are all skilled performers and very fine singers; Armitage had thought on more than one occasion how welcome all of them would have been at Nuada’s court. When he mentioned this to Rey in passing she sternly told him that under no circumstances was he allowed to invite Finn, or any of them, to Tír na nÓg. “I don’t need him disappearing for a thousand years,” she had said, eyes flashing.

When his harp was as tuned as it was going to get with the damp weather, Armitage set his fingers to the strings and joins in. The silvery, delicate sounds of the harp were often too quiet to hear over the other instruments but Armitage didn’t mind, he was more than pleased to be with friends playing songs that made his heart sing. He was grateful to Rey for her suggestion that he come and participate in the musical sessions with Finn and his friends. He had just returned to Dublin after another fruitless search for Kylo - there had been unusually vicious snowstorms plaguing St. John’s in Newfoundland and Armitage couldn’t help himself, he had to go to that small city on the edge of the world to see for himself. Either he had just missed Kylo, or his beloved had never been there at all, Armitage couldn’t say for sure but, burning his sigil in the wall of the cathedral on the hill, he returned back to Éire with a broken heart. Rey had found him sad-eyed and brooding in his office and when she mentioned that Finn was looking for more musicians to join him every Thursday at the Cobblestone, he thought, why not take a chance on this.

As they wheel their way from merry jigs and reels, to beautiful ballads and fierce fighting songs, Armitage’s eyes flutter closed as the music washes over him. At times like this, he feels especially close to Kylo for he had always loved to hear Armitage play. And Armitage had loved to play for Kylo, loved to show off for him, to see those warm brown eyes focused completely on him with such devotion. Armitage blushes and tips his face towards the harp to try to hide the hectic pink flush spreading across his cheeks.

The jaunty song that they’re playing is starting to draw to a close and Armitage can sense someone’s eyes on him, asking for his attention. He glances up to see Finn nodding to him. As the final strains of the music fade away and the crowd cheers its approval, Finn leans forward.

“Armitage, your choice. What do you want to play next?”

Armitage pauses for a moment and taps his fingertip against his lips. He can still feel Kylo’s spirit close at hand and he wants to hold onto this closeness for as long as he can.

“Do you know ‘Siúil a Rúin’?”

Finn’s dark eyes light up. “Yeah, we do.” He grins. “That’s perfect, you take the lead, okay?”

The room falls silent, straining to hear the wispy strains of the harp as he picks out the delicate melody. The others set their instruments on their laps as the song is a showcase for the quieter sound of the harp. Armitage plays the opening note with some flare, making exaggerated hand motions as he plucks the strings, he knows it looks rather elegant with his long narrow hands, Kylo had remarked on it more than once. Taking a fortifying inhale, he lets his honeyed tenor voice ring out around the hushed room.

_I wish I were on yonder hill,_   
_‘Tis there I’d sit and cry my fill,_   
_Until every tear would turn a mill._

His voice trembles over the next verse, unready for the emotional punch the song would pack. He thinks bitterly how the song has such relevance to his life now whereas before, it had simply been a pretty melody to play on his harp.

_I wish I sat on my true love’s knee,_   
_Many a fine story he told to me._   
_He told me things that ne’re shall be._

Finn’s deep baritone complimented by Poe’s more raspy tenor, and Jim’s haunting alto voice blend with his, and combined with Armitage’s longing to send the song soaring to Kylo, weave their voices together seamlessly, filling up the small room completely.

_Siúil, siúil, siúil a rúin,_   
_Siúil go socair agus, siúil go ciúin,_   
_Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom._

The chorus is his favourite part of the song, it’s so plaintive and breathlessly romantic. Armitage remembers when he’d play for the court, Kylo would always come and seek him out, no matter what he was engaged in. Unless he was away at war, Kylo would come to him without fail.

_His hair was black, his eye was blue,_   
_His arm was strong, his word was true,_   
_I wish in my heart I was with you._

Armitage allows his eyes to droop closed again as he holds an image of Kylo in his mind’s eye. The veil ripples and flexes then, stretching tight across his eyes as if it would shield Kylo from him. But, Armitage senses a tearing at the corners of the fabric in his mind, perhaps Manannán mac Lir’s spell is beginning to lose its potency after all this time?

As they run through the chorus again, Armitage allows his mind to tug at this stray thread. The veil had been rippling and weakening lately, allowing him glimpses of Kylo during his divination sessions. This, combined with the oncoming storm sets Armitage’s mind racing - if Kylo was fighting back against his foster father, could Armitage somehow call out to him across the divide?

Could Armitage draw Kylo to him with his song?

_I’ll dye my petticoat, I’ll dye it red,_   
_And ‘round the world, I’ll beg my bread,_   
_‘Til I find my love alive or dead._

They draw the plaintive song to a close with the chorus again, their voices ringing in Armitage’s ears. From the darkened crowd, Rey gasps loudly and Armitage turns sharply to catch her eye. She’s sitting bolt upright, eyes wide as dinner plates, and even Farrell and Phineas have their feathers puffed up, having picked up on the weird energy emanating from Armitage and Rey. She’s nodding emphatically at him, pointing furiously at the harp then cupping her hands into a bowl-like shape.

As the song ends and the room is engulfed in applause and raucous cheering, Armitage thumps back against his chair, harp pressing on his thigh, staring at Rey as a slightly hysterical smile breaks across his face.

He knows how to find Kylo.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confident that his visions are pointing to Kylo's imminent return, Armitage and Rey race towards Brú na Bóinne as a furious snowstorm barrels towards Dublin. Armed with nothing but the hope in his heart, Armitage enacts his plan to call to Kylo across time and space. But what if the portents are wrong? What if Armitage has misread the signs? Armitage has nothing left to lose and everything to gain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! The stirring conclusion is here! Will Armitage finally be reunited with Kylo? Will they be safe to return to Tír na nÓg, or should they remain in the upper world forever hiding but finally safe and together.
> 
> In this chapter, Armitage sings Óró sé do bheatha 'bhaile which is another traditional Irish song and this one has several iterations and is known as a rebel song nowadays because of its connection to the Jacobite uprising of 1745-46 and the Easter Rising in 1916. "Óró" is a cheer and "sé do bheatha 'bhaile" means "welcome home". I haven't included the entire translation for the song here but I can if people want it - I can also post some music videos with different versions of the song.
> 
> Óró sé do bheatha ‘bhaile = o ro welcome home  
> Óró sé do bheatha ‘bhaile = o ro welcome home  
> Óró sé do bheatha ‘bhaile = o ro welcome home  
> Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh = now that summer's coming
> 
> Other translations:
> 
> A stóirín mo chroí = oh love of my heart  
> Dia duit = hello  
> Go raibh maith agat = thank you

The storm breaks during the night with a frightening intensity and with it, the veil is torn screaming from across Armitage’s eyes. For the first time since this whole nightmare began he can see his way clearly. He spent a sleepless night, waiting impatiently for the storm to subside slightly and the morning to come. Rey assured him that nothing would stop them from getting to Brú na Bóinne - not this wretched winter storm nor the fury of Manannán mac Lir.

It was a white-knuckle drive from Dublin to Newgrange as the intensity of the storm buffeted the truck from all sides and only Rey’s skill behind the wheel kept them from careening into the ditch. Now, parked haphazardly in a narrow lane at the base of the hill where the massive passage tomb that marks Armitage’s home sits like a crown, its white walls and grass-green covering barely visible in the haze of snow, the wind subsides slightly as if Kylo’s anger itself has abated.

Armitage, followed by Rey, scrambles out of the truck and with Fintan and Fionnbarr tucked into Armitage’s hood, and Farrell and Phineas with Rey, they begin the long slog up the hill. The snow is knee deep on Armitage and his movement is hampered by the unwieldy harp on his back. He’s breathing hard and his eyelashes are encrusted with frost as he gains the summit of the hill. 

Hurrying around to the front of the tumulus mound, they see the valley stretching out before them, blanketed in fresh snow. The other two passage tombs off to the right are barely visible beneath the drifting snow and even the ring of standing stones around the mound are covered in ice, having been blasted by the wind for hours during the night.

“Where?” Rey bends over, hands on her knees to catch her breath. Her face is pale in the cold air, only bright spots of colour on her cheeks belie her concern and anxiety for Armitage’s wellbeing. “Where should we go? Is here good?” She gestures around to the flat expanse of ground in front of the wooden steps that take visitors up and into the passage tomb.

“No, higher, I think.” Armitage looks over his shoulder. “There.” He points to the very top of the mound. “I need to be up there.”

They high-step their way through the snow to the staircase. Armitage clambers up the stone wall of the tomb to the snow-covered grass and Rey boosts the harp up after him. As he claws his way to the very top of the mound, Rey returns to the path and keeps a watchful eye out both for security staff from the museum as well as for signs of Kylo. At the top of the tomb, Armitage carefully kneels on one knee, keeping the harp braced against his thigh. Fintain and Fionnbarr whisk out of his hood and fly down to perch on one of the standing stones to keep watch with Rey. 

His hands are trembling so fiercely that he takes a moment to shake them out, flexing his fingers and pressing them to his lips, he tries to hold back the tide of emotion welling up inside of him. If this doesn’t work, he doesn’t know what he will do - lie down and allow himself to be scattered to the four directions in all probability.

Setting his chilled fingers to the strings, he picks out the tune. With eyes closed, he can barely muster more than a whisper, fear choking his throat, preventing the words from singing out.

_Óró sé do bheatha ‘bhaile_  
_Óró sé do bheatha ‘bhaile_  
_Óró sé do bheatha ‘bhaile_  
_Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh_

He lets his voice trail off as he opens his eyes. Nothing has changed - the valley before him is still thick with snow and bathed in a winter-blue light. He notices, however, that the land hums with anticipation. He tries again, forcing his eyes to remain open and pushing the words past his lips, stronger this time they sail out over them and away on the wind.

_Óró sé do bheatha ‘bhaile_  
_Óró sé do bheatha ‘bhaile_  
_Óró sé do bheatha ‘bhaile_  
_Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh_

“Armitage!” Rey calls up to him, dancing excitedly in place. “Look!” She points across the valley to where he can see dark purple thunderheads building on the horizon.

He starts the song again and this time doesn’t stop. His voice gains strength as he warms up and his dulcet voice rings out, echoing off the standing stones and reverberating around the valley.

_Óró sé do bheatha ‘bhaile_  
_Óró sé do bheatha ‘bhaile_  
_Óró sé do bheatha ‘bhaile_  
_Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh_

_‘Sé do bheathe a bhean ba léanmhar_  
_Do b’é ar gcreách thú bheith i ngeibheann_  
_Do dhúiche bhreá i seilbh méirleach_  
_‘S tú díolta leis na Gallaibh_

The wind begins to pick up as he sings, tearing at his words and clothes, tumbling his hair into his eyes. As the wind squalls to a fevered pitch and the snow kicks up in a swirling tempest all around them, he stands and throws the harp aside and simply screams the words into the maw of the furious storm, tears streaming from his eyes, the wind tearing at his hair and jacket as he throws his hands into the air.

_A bhuí le Rí na bhFeart go bhfeiceam_  
_Mura mbeam beo ina dhiaidh ach seachtain_  
_Gráinne Mhaol agus míle gaiscíoch_  
_Ag fógairt fáin ar Ghallaibh_

_Óró sé do bheatha ‘bhaile_  
_Óró sé do bheatha ‘bhaile_  
_Óró sé do bheatha ‘bhaile_  
_Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh_

From below him on the path, Rey leaps up and down. “Armitage! It’s working!” She points excitedly towards the horizon where the storm continues to churn and boil. The birds have ducked into her hood for protection against the wind. “He’s coming! Keep going!”

Armitage wails the chorus of the song again as the force of the growing storm shakes the valley. As he sends the last notes of his desperate song arrowing across the snowy expanse of the field before him, the storm clouds that have been growing on the horizon finally billow into huge thunderheads, forming a blue-green bruise that spans the entirety of the skyline.

Armitage stands in awe for a moment as he watches the gathering storm. Tucking his harp close to his side, he carefully slides down the face of the passage tomb and stumbles to a stop at Rey’s side so they can watch the blue lightning arch between the clouds. Rey presses her hands together under her chin as she gazes raptly at the weird winter storm’s approach. Armitage sets his harp down beside him as the rumbling of the thunder rolls towards them, nearly knocking them off their feet with the force of it. He gasps as the blue lightning impales the wintery field in waves and waves. Rey grips his elbow tightly, he can feel the bruising press of her fingers even through the layers of his woolen coat squeezing every time the lightning hammers the ground.

As suddenly as the thunderheads built, they dissipate; leaving the valley humming with magic and crackling with electricity. Armitage holds his breath as the mist clears, then a sob bursts forth from his lips as he sees the crumpled figure in the snow in the field in the spot where the lightning had struck. He turns to Rey, his mouth opening and closing silently and she gazes back at him, tears shining in her eyes. A low moan from the figure galvanizes Armitage into action. He pushes the harp into Rey’s hands and hurls himself down the gentle hill, skidding and sliding in the heavy snow towards the figure, who has now pushed himself to his knees.

Armitage doesn’t even try to wipe away the tears that are streaming from his eyes as he rushes towards his long-lost beloved. As he approaches, Kylo shakes his head as if to clear it, then looks up at Armitage and opens his arms for him. Armitage flings himself into those welcoming arms, home at last. Kylo presses his face into Armitage’s chest with a whimper and his hot tears slip down Armitage's neck and soak into his scarf. Kylo’s arms tighten around his waist and Armitage sobs anew as the centuries of loneliness and stress, the long years of grief, begin peeling away. He buries his face into Kylo’s sweat-damp hair and inhales - that familiar scent of leather oil and steel, of fresh linen and straw, of home - flood his senses. 

Kylo shifts, nosing his way along Armitage’s jaw, pressing heated kisses to every available bit of exposed skin. Armitage cups his face tenderly and lifts it to his, nipping and lapping his way across Kylo’s trembling lips and sighing his pleasure into Kylo’s mouth. Their tentative kisses turn biting as their bodies remember the shape of one another and they clutch and cling desperately at each other, trying to press closer. Eventually, Armitage presses a bit too tightly to Kylo’s cheek and Kylo pulls back with a hiss. It’s then, through his haze of emotion, that Armitage sees the crimson bolt running down Kylo’s face, just as it was in his vision.

“Oh, my love, my dearest.” Armitage leans in to rest their foreheads together as Kylo’s hands grip him tightly by the hips. “You are injured.”

Kylo attempts a weak grin. “It’s nothing, A stóirín mo chroí, ‘tis but a scratch.”

“I foresaw this,” Armitage whispers, running his fingertips gently along the torn, reddened skin at the seam of the slash. “I foresaw a battle, oh my darling.”

Kylo reaches up to entangle their fingers together and draws his hand away from his injury. “Manannán was a canny and strong adversary, right to the end. I’ll have these scars forever I think.”

Armitage bares his teeth, and a hiss sneaks out at the mention of their old enemy. He leans back slightly to examine Kylo and now he can see the splotches of dark red blood darkening his gambeson at his shoulder and side. With nimble fingers, he unbuckles the straps holding the pauldrons in place around Kylo’s broad shoulders and easing them aside, he gasps at the mess of blood that is Kylo’s shoulder. Kylo slips his hand over Armitage’s and guides it back to his lips.

“It looks worse than it is, my beauty, Manannán stuck me with his sword but it’s superficial at least.” He grimaces as Armitage unlaces his gambeson and gently pushes it aside to reveal the shoulder wound. “It hurt like hell, and bled twice as much.”

“Where else?”

Armitage sweeps his hands down Kylo’s back and up over his chest. He moans with fear when his hand presses over Kylo’s side and comes back bright red. Kylo helps him pull back the supple leathers of his armor and lift up the dirty linen shirt to expose the bloody wound in his side. His wide eyes meet Kylo’s tired, glassy ones.

“Ah, yes, there’s that.” Kylo attempts to grin ruefully but it’s clear to Armitage he’s in pain. “That one is a bit worse. Can you heal me?”

“Manannán broke my wand,” Kylo growls low in his throat at that. “I can do something now but we really should get back to the city, I can work my physick much better there with my medicines and herbals.”

Armitage directs Kylo to hold back the gambeson and shirt so that the wound is uncovered. His hands' tingle as he wraps his magic around him, then with delicately glowing fingertips, he sketches a cross overtop the injury.

“A cross of blue,” he tilts his hand and draws another cross in the opposite way, “and another red, by the grace of Danu. I shall neither sleep nor eat until this is fixed up nice and neat.”

Kylo giggles softly at the rhyme, Armitage peeks up at him from under the fall of his hair, grinning in response. The magic seeps into the wound and stanches the flow of blood, Kylo grunts as the glow of red and blue wraps around his torso and fades. Armitage whips off his woolen scarf and packs it into Kylo’s side, then loosely laces the gambeson in place.

“There, that should hold until we are home.”

He sits back, reaching out for Kylo’s hands again. They drink each other in then, looking their fill, hardly noticing the gently falling snow that had just started. Kylo’s eyes dart over Armitage’s face and up to his hair. Armitage flushes as he pulls his hand from Kylo’s to ruffle at his close-cropped red hair.

“Ah-ha, I know, I changed my hair.” He drops his hand again, hunching his shoulders a little anxious that Kylo would lament the loss of his soft locks. “The undercut, I know, is drastic, but I was trying to fit in.”

Kylo smiles as he gathers Armitage’s hand in his again. “You could never fit in, my beauty, you were made to stand out.”

Armitage sways forward again and presses their lips together. “How did you find me, love, I’ve been searching for you for so long.”

“It was your song,” Kylo whispers against his cheek. His tongue darts out to lap at the tears shimmering on Armitage’s skin. “Every time you sang, I heard you and this time, your beautiful voice pulled me right to you.”

Armitage sighs as he leans their foreheads together, his fingers rhythmically carding through Kylo’s tangled curls. “Good, that is good.”

He sags further into the safety of Kylo’s body, exhausted. Neither of them can bear to take their hands from the other so they slump together cooing nonsense words and quiet endearments, while fingertips dance over cheekbones, feather down necks, and skim over shoulders and down backs. Finally, a subtle clearing of a throat from somewhere behind alerts Armitage to Rey’s presence.

“Armitage, I’m so sorry.” She says regretfully, “but we should go. I’m worried that the storm will have attracted people’s attention, we don’t want to get nicked for trespassing. And Kylo should probably get out of the weather.”

He turns to her with a smile. She stands a little ways off holding the harp, jewel-like flakes of snow dotting her eyelashes and adorning her dark hair. Her brows are knitted with concern and her eyes keep darting to Kylo then away, then back again as she tries not to stare curiously at Kylo who had appeared like a miracle, bloodied and exhausted on the ground before her.

“Of course, little sister, you are right.” He turns back to Kylo. “Can you stand, my love, we should take our leave.”

Kylo nods as Armitage helps to heave him to his feet. Rey hurries forward then, handing off the harp, safe in its traveling case, to Armitage who slings it over his shoulder, and goes around to Kylo’s other, uninjured side and guides his arm across her shoulders.

“Oh, my sword.” Kylo gestures weakly to the great sword half-buried in the snow beside them.

Rey lays a steadying hand on Kylo’s back and once he stops swaying and she’s sure he won’t collapse, she bends to heave the massive sword off the ground. She can only manage to lift it halfway but it’s enough for Kylo to catch the hilt and with both Rey and Armitage’s assistance, they slide it home in the scabbard at his hip. Rey slings Kylo’s arm over her shoulders again.

“Alright, let’s go.” She says firmly. “But careful now, the snow is pretty deep by the fence over there.” She indicates the direction with a jut of her chin as Armitage’s eyes filled again with tears, deeply touched by her steadfast friendship.

Together, the three of them pick their delicate way through the wintery field, gilded in a soft blue light, as above them the skies open up and a gentle snow pours down on them in earnest, muffling their steps and dampening their voices. A hush falls over the valley as they make their slow, deliberate way to Rey’s car and to home.

\----

“When can I get out of this bed?”

Kylo is leaning back against the headboard of the bed, quilts pooled around his hips, arms crossed in a mock huff. His shoulder and sides are heavily bandaged but, in Armitage’s opinion, in the past two weeks he has regained much of the colour in his face and his hair is clean and lustrous again, he’s very nearly the picture of health.

“There was a time, love, when you refused to leave my bed.” Armitage laughs as he closes the bedroom door behind him. He sets the antique white teapot, decorated with a riot of flowers, on the bedside table and perches carefully at the edge of the bed. He scrutinizes Kylo’s face. “You look very well, considering.” He carefully runs his fingertips down the scar that bisects Kylo’s face. “I am so sorry about this one Kylo, if only I could have gotten to you sooner.”

Kylo catches his hand and brings it to his lips. Pressing a kiss to Armitage’s palm, he smiles as Armitage’s fingers twitch in his grasp. “I had been carrying that one for a while before you found me, it was Manannán’s opening salvo against me.” His eyes dance over Armitage’s face.

Armitage tugs his hand from Kylo’s, folding his hands in his lap he lets his gaze drop away guiltily as he fidgets with the hem of his robe.

“But, your eye.”

Kylo slips two fingers under Armitage’s chin and lifts his head up to meet his eyes. One of Kylo’s eyes is still the same warm brown, full of barely concealed emotions that it always was, the other eye - the one that had the scar - has turned to a deep golden colour. It is most unusual, Armitage is at a loss to explain it.

“I didn’t lose my sight, love, and you never know - perhaps I’ve gained second sight, maybe I’ll be able to see into the future, like you.” He waggles his eyebrows at Armitage, coaxing a giggle out of him.

“That’s not how divination works!”

“So you say.” Kylo grins, letting his hand drift down from Armitage’s face to trail over his collarbones, pushing aside the fabric of the robe as he goes. “I’m the one with mismatched eyes, surely it can only increase my power.”

Armitage harrumphs. “Simple tricks and nonsense, all of it.” His grin turns breathless as Kylo’s wandering hands tug the sash of his robe loose so he can push it off Armitage’s narrow shoulders. The robe cascades off his body and slides to the floor as Kylo’s hands trace lower to grip him by the hips.

“Come back to bed, love, I need you close.”

Armitage obliges and settles himself carefully in Kylo’s lap, ever mindful of the tender spot on his side where the once-horrible maw of a wound is now delicate, rosy skin, covered over with bandages. He sighs as Kylo’s hands skate down his back and he arches into the familiar touch.

“It will never be close enough-”

He breaks off with a gasp as Kylo’s practiced hands slide lower and press rhythmically at his most sensitive spot. He cups his hands around Kylo’s face, tilting him up so that Armitage can capture his lips in a searing kiss. Kylo slips his hands under Armitage’s thighs and guides him up and helps him to settle back, both groaning as Kylo slides home.

“Stars, Armitage, I never thought I’d hold you like this again.” He whimpers as Armitage rolls his hips experimentally. “You feel like heaven.” Kylo gazes up at Armitage reverently, his mismatched eyes bright and his cheeks flushed.

Armitage cups Kylo’s face again, brushing the pads of his thumbs over Kylo’s damp cheeks. “Hold me tighter, please, and never let go again.”

\----

There’s a spring in Armitage’s step as he crosses the square toward his office. The sun shines brightly down upon the university’s campus causing the shadows of his antlers to stretch out like a lattice across the flagstones ahead of him. The last dregs of Kylo’s snowstorm have finally melted away and the square is full of students enjoying the fine weather. Armitage can smell spring on the air, he feels as if he’s been reborn in more ways than one and he tips his face up to the sky, breathing in the sweet scents of freshly tilled earth and new life that waft towards him from one of the campus’s many green spaces. Then, a familiar voice hails him from across the square and he turns to see Kylo barreling towards him.

“There you are.” Kylo strides towards him. He cuts such a strange and stunning figure with his height, mismatched eyes of gold and black, and that thunderbolt of a scar bisecting his face, that the students instinctively flow around him, parting for him like water around a rock. “Here, I brought you breakfast from that bakery you like.” He presses a white paper bag into Armitage’s hands.

Armitage peeks into the bag and delights in the scent of sugar and fresh blueberries that greet him. He barely resists the urge to devour the whole thing right then and there.

“Thank you, love.” He smiles over at Kylo. “Will you come with me to my office? I promised I would begin instructing Rey on the art of divination.”

“Of course, anywhere you go, so shall I go.” He leans over to press a kiss to Armitage’s temple. “You look lovely today, may I say?”

Armitage hides his pleased smile behind his hand. “You may, love, and thank you.”

Two students wave a greeting as they pass.

“Dia duit, Professor Armitage.” A girl with wild black curls calls out. She glances over at Kylo, curiosity plain on her face. “And to you, Mr. Armitage.” She adds, before Armitage’s glamour weaves its spell and her gaze slides off them.

“Dia duit, Jenny,” Armitage says. “Your work in class this term has been outstanding, have you given more thought to that Gaeilge summer course?”

“Yes! I think I’m going to go for it.” She says excitedly as she turns back to them. “Do you think you could write me a reference letter?”

“Of course,” he replies. “Come to my office this afternoon and we can discuss what you want me to say in the letter.”

“Go raibh maith agat!” She says, “See you this afternoon.” She waves as she turns to hurry after her friend.

He smiles at her enthusiasm then turns back to see Kylo grinning broadly at him. He quirks an eyebrow in question.

“What? What is it, my love?”

“Nothing.” Kylo swoops down for another kiss. “Just you - you’re glowing. It’s so good to see you like this.”

Armitage harrumphs but is secretly pleased. “You should not make me glow so, my dear, the glamour has to work that much harder to hide us. I shall have to weave the spell tighter very soon.”

“Well fortunately for us,” Kylo holds the door to the Arts Building open for Armitage, “you’re the finest magician of all the Tuatha Dé Danann, I know you will keep us safe.”

Armitage sighs as he passes through the door into the draughty corridor leading to his office. “That wasn’t always so.”

Kylo catches his hand, squeezing tight. “Oh, Armitage. My love.” He presses Armitage’s hand tightly against his mouth. He hustles them down the hallway to Armitage’s office. Taking the keys from Armitage’s unresisting hand and unlocking the door, he ushers Armitage inside. “There was nothing you or I could have done, not once Manannán mac Lir had decided to move against us.”

“I know, I know,” Armitage whispers as he crosses the room to his desk, eyes averted from Kylo and the guilt he feels when looking at the scar and mismatched eyes. “You may need to remind me of that, every so often.” He settles at his desk.

“Gladly, love.” Kylo shrugs out of his navy blue peacoat and flings it onto the chair in front of Armitage’s desk so he can sprawl out on the small two-seat sofa along the wall in between bookcases teeming with books of all sorts. “I’ll remind you as often as you need. And stop feeling so guilty about my eye, I kind of like it - makes me look dangerous, don’t you think?”

“You looked dangerous before, Kylo, do I need to remind _you_ of that?”

Kylo tips his head back to grin at Armitage over the arm of the sofa, flexing his arms a little as he raises them up to fold behind his head. “I mean, I wouldn’t ever say no to that.”

Armitage laughs as he gets up from the desk and comes around to press a kiss to Kylo’s forehead. “My brave knight.” He whispers into Kylo’s hair.

A tapping at the window draws their attention and Armitage looks up to see Fintan, Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas perched on the ledge outside the window looking at them expectantly. Fionnbarr taps his long beak against the glass again.

“Hello there.” He pushes the window open so the birds can sweep into the room.

They wheel around the room before settling - Fintan at his usual perch on Armitage’s antlers, the others circle Kylo as he sits up so they can settle on his shoulders and at his knee. They coo and warble at him, still delighted that he has returned even though it has been more than a month.

“So,” Kylo says with a studied casualness as he pets the birds’ shimmering feathers. “Have you given any thought to what I asked you last week?”

Armitage pulls the window closed and latches it firmly. He crosses his arms and gazes down into the courtyard beneath the window. The cobblestoned area is a pretty oasis from the busy campus, he is fortunate that his office is in a quieter part of the building and this small courtyard is less traveled than Fellows’ Square. The gardens that ring the square are not yet in full bloom but are awash in a vibrant green as they wake from their winter slumber. The two trees at opposite ends of the enclosure are ready to burst into flower. Currently, there are only two students in the courtyard, Armitage watches them with a slight smile on his face, they appear to be playing a game with their phone devices for they swipe furiously at the screen then one, obviously in triumph, leaps up and down and shoves her phone in her friend’s face. They both laugh as they gesture excitedly towards the sporting fields then hurry off in that direction. Armitage turns away from the window.

“What do you want to do, love?”

Kylo beckons Armitage over, Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas flutter up to join Fintan on a branch of Armitage’s antlers as he settles himself snugly in the curve of Kylo’s side.

“I have some ideas but I would prefer to know your opinion.” Kylo slips his arm around Armitage’s shoulders and draws him closer.

Armitage melts into Kylo’s touch, sighing as Kylo buries his face in his hair. “I would go back to Tír na nÓg if that is what you wished.”

“But that’s not really what I asked - what do you want to do, love.”

Armitage sits back so he can better contemplate Kylo’s beloved face and his very important question. His gaze bounces between Kylo’s mismatched eyes and slides down the line of the scar to Kylo’s full, smiling lips. He meets Kylo’s eyes again, his gaze is soft and adoring.

“I think I would like to stay here in the upper world, at least for a short while. There are many promising students this term, I can’t abandon them in the middle of their studies.”

He yelps as Kylo pulls him into his lap and burrows his face into the hollow between Armitage’s neck and shoulder, nuzzling the collar of his blue button-down shirt aside to press a kiss to Armitage’s flushed skin.

“Just as I thought.” He smiles as Armitage slings his arms around his neck. “I see how you are with your students, they adore you just as much as your little birds do.”

The four birds trill their agreement. Armitage caresses his fingertips down Kylo’s face, murmuring quietly as Kylo’s leans into the touch.

“But what will you do? Will you not be bored with the domestic life?”

Kylo wiggles his hands up underneath Armitage’s jumper and button-up so that he can stroke the soft skin of Armitage’s lower back. “How could I be bored loving you?”

“Oh.” Armitage arches up into the touch, exhaling sharply before responding. “You would be content to stay home and dote on me, hmm?” He giggles breathlessly as Kylo nips at his neck.

“I would, my beauty.” He grins as Armitage sways forward, crashing their lips together in a heated kiss. “And don’t forget, I’m a man of many talents.” He whispers against Armitage’s mouth.

“I remember that well.”

“So, we’ll stay here in the upper world then?” 

Armitage leans forward to rest his forehead against Kylo’s. “Yes, for a time. I think.”

“Good.” Kylo’s smile is like the sun. “That’s good, love.”

“It is, is it not, my gallant hero.”


End file.
